Alice POV

My hand reached instinctively for his, yearning to be cradled, as they grasped only the bed-sheets beneath me. My eyes snapped open as I sprung into a sitting position, scanning the room for any sign of him. He left!

I waited almost half a century for him and he leaves? What had I done? It must have been when I put my hand on his arm. He wasn't expecting it and had flinched away. I should've known not to do that! His time as a newborn was one of torture and pain. He wasn't comfortable around people, not used to being touched. And I had gone and scared the crap out of him! That must be it! But how to get him to come back to me, where he belonged, forever and always?

Walking over to the window, I slid the curtains open just enough for me to look out and see that darkness had just began to fall. Perfect!

The feel of my new dress was like heaven as it slid down my bare skin, resting at my knees. What can I say? I'm a girl, I love clothes! Slipping into my black heels, I walked to the mirror and stood before it with a frown. I looked horrible! I couldn't get my Jasper back looking like that!

Mildly frustrated, I pulled my dress back over my head and threw it on the bed, kicking my heels off at the foot of it. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, I walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The steam curled around me, much like I wish Jasper's arms would do, before resting gently on the mirror.

The woman in the mirror was slowly becoming distorted, her face disappearing. Her small, elfin face held delicate features, those of a woman on the body of an adolescent. It wasn't exactly that I didn't have, um, assets, per say, because I did. I was just short for my age of around 112 years, even considering the fact that I was 19 years of age when I was "born."

I barely remembered my human life, if any at all. It was more often than not a blessing, as I didn't care to remember anyways, but also sometimes a curse. I longed to know of my family. Did I have any siblings? Any nieces or nephews? What did my parents do to earn a living? What had my life been like? But most importantly, why was there a grave inscribed with my name, birth and death dates in a Mississippi cemetery?

I was glad I was no longer capable of tears. If I were, they would be endlessly coursing down my face. Why? Because my parents didn't care. They claimed I was dead. They had paid to have a gravestone with my name on it put in a cemetery, knowing full-well that I was living and breathing, same as them. I was healthy and thriving, and ready to please. Healthy as a horse, in fact.

By then, steam had completely cloaked the reflection of the young woman in the mirror. Her sweeping, graceful features were still somewhat visible. Her lips were blood-red and full, doe eyes warm and golden. Her figure was small and pixie-like, slight yet full. Inky black pixie-cut hair stood out, a definite contrast to her cold, pale, diamond-hard skin. Her body was flawless, unmarred except for the distinct crescent shaped scar that caused her heart to stiffen and her body to transform into the world's most lethal predator: a vampire.